She's Pissed He's Scared
by MissPoisonedAddiction1
Summary: Puck remembers some advice from Dane Cook-when your girl locks her foot in place and starts agreeing with things your saying? You are going to be mind-f*cked.
1. She's Pissed He's Scared

Authors Note:

**So, this is probably the first Glee Fic I've posted ( I have so many of them on file ) but I wrote this just a while go; with some inspiration from the fight I've had with my boyfriend. Took a little time to edit the funny bits, but I think I did good. Don't forget to review!**

**Loves it.**

* * *

He knows she's pissed when she bites the inside of her lip and just stares at something other then him. He braces himself for the torrent of words to spill from her mouth or yet the profanities. He _did _call her a crazy bitch, Noah Puckerman grudgingly recalled, but she seriously wasn't mad that he, you know, sexted Santana?

No, how could she possibly know?

He kept his phone on him at _all _fucking times. Seriously, he did. He knew girls like her went through absolutely everything, and besides she wasn't giving him _any_.

And it was just _sexting. _With _Santana,_ nonetheless.

So yeah, he remembers faintly Dane Cooks advice; when she locks her foot into place, shit is bound to go down.

She hasn't agreed with anything he's said yet, so he thinks that's a good sign until she starts smiling and nodding when he mumbles "You seriously can't be mad at me right now." And this is where he starts to panic because, shit, maybe she does know about the whole thing with that crazy Latino chick.

She waves her hand at him, as if begging him to go on and he breathes in deeply, tries to act unscathed, because really? This chick is 5'4, but he does so not doubt she could kick the shit out of him.

"Look, if this is about what happened the other day—

"You showed your friends a picture of my breasts, Puck."

Oh shit. She's using less words. And she called him by his nickname.

"Well, yeah, I just wanted them to know they couldn't have you and stuff because—

"Because I'm apparently 'Your girl', and may I remind you I find that term repulsive, males speaking about the other gender like we are some sort of property?" she finishes with a small huff.

"Look, babe—

"Do not 'Babe' me, Noah Puckerman."

He narrows his eyes and frowns some at her, scraping his shoe on the auditoriums linen floor.

She won't even let him finish his sentence. And shit, did she just lock her foot into place? And are her hands touching her face?_ Oh unholy fucking alliance._

"Seriously, though, Ber—Rachel. It was just a picture, of your cleavage, with like, no nipple or anything." He shrugs helplessly.

She nods, still smiling creepily and is it weird he's turned on by that crazy look in her eye?

"Do you have any other pictures of me, Noah?" she asks softly, and he realizes; _Shit, this is the calm before the storm._

He gulps.

"Just one…."

"Of?"

He mumbles incoherently.

"Speak up, Puck. I can't hear you clearly enough."

"I have a picture of you… Bent over my truck," he mumbles and he watches as her face goes blank.

She reaches a tiny hand towards him and he flinches like a _bitch_.

"Phone" she grits out.

And he totally is not shaking when he reaches into his pocket and hands it to her. Her fingers flutter over the keys before he hears the sound of something being deleted—So used to deleting some of Finns messages and that annoying half a second tone—then he hears her take a tiny breath.

She shoves the phone back at him, and she's left whatever made her gasp on the screen. It's a picture of Santana wearing a singlet, panties and that's it, hand between her legs with the text "Miss This?" above it.

He totally forgot to delete that.

"Babe" he utters before she reaches out, slaps him across the face which totally fucking _hurts_ and turns around. She stomps her way down the carpet, mumbling softly.

At the doors of the auditorium, her tiny hand opens it just an inch and he can hear the thunder of people talking and watches as people outside walk past, she turns and he can see rather then hear the words clearly besides the ringing in his ears and the roaring of the voices outside. It's barely audible, but he can still read her lips.

"I'm telling your mother, Noah Puckerman." And then she's gone and he's swearing profusely.

Dane Cook did _not _prepare him for _that_.


	2. Where Puck Is Screwed

**Authors Note:**

Had a lot of ideas that were deleted, so, finally came up with this. Enjoy and Review!

* * *

She has done her best to avoid him like, all week. So really, he's not surprised when she doesn't look at him during Glee. In fact, when partnered up with him, she pretends he's not even like, there.

So yeah, to say she's pissed is a huge understatement.

Santana isn't helping the situation either, coming onto him during a song (which he did fucking perfectly, thank you very much) about a brown eyed girl. And yeah, his eyes go down to her cleavage (what? He's still got a _dick_, people.) and then Rachel lets out this little sigh like she just saw Bambi go down or something.

(His little sister makes him watch that shit every Sunday)

Finn turns to her with a worried frown. Like the savoir he really is he looks into her eyes, places a hand on her thigh—which he fucking _hates_—and asks "Do you want to talk?"

At her silent no, Finn pats her back and then suddenly Mike and Matt are there, cheering her up by telling her about the past basketball game and how Mike got kneed in the nuts. Mike winces and presses his legs together restlessly.

And all the while, he's keeping his eyes on her while talking to Santana.

Matt puts his hand on her shoulder, leans forward to whisper in her ear.

_Oh hell fucking no._

She blushes. Pushes his shoulder and... Kisses his cheek.

_Oh. Hell. Fucking. No._

"So do you want to screw or not?" Santana asks with a sigh.

"Not. Hell fucking not." He grumbles and walks over to them. Mike and Matt flinch at his glare, but don't move. Like body-guards or some shit.

"Rachel, can we talk?"

She glances at him, looks back to Matt and Mike and flicks her hand. They leave, to go talk to Finn about something stupid.

_What the hell?_

"What the hell was that? Are they your bodyguards or some shit?" he voices.

She stares at him blankly.

"What, may I ask Noah, was the subject you wanted to talk to me about? Because if it's about my _'body guards' _then I assure you, this conversation is going to be very diminutive."

Puck blinks at her like she just pulled out a dictionary and hit him across the face with it.

"What?"

"You're wasting my precious time, Noah."

He gulps.

"Look," he squares his shoulders and narrows his eyes just slightly. "I don't know how tight you and Duck Sauce—

"Hey!"

"Or Milkshake are. But you are still my girl." He finishes with a primal growl. She raises one single brow.

"Still your girl.." she repeats slowly.

"If you think anything is different, you are very fucking wrong."

She blinks.

"Well, why don't you invite me over to dinner tonight then? Presuming that's what most men do with a piece of property, show them to their mothers and whatnot?"

He stares at her, his mouth hanging open.

"Pick me up at 7." She throws over her shoulder, walking past him just as the bell rings. He so checks her crazy ass out as she leaves.

_Well, shit._


	3. Where Puck Is Screwed Once More

**Authors Note:**

I ws honestly trying to get Rachel some revenge here, and figured the low blow was best. So here is such.

Review, please, and I'll kill Santana.

( I keed, I keed.)

**Disclaimer: **

Do NOT want.

* * *

So, like, he's screwed. In all kinds of positions. Because A) his mom hasn't seen Rachel in forever and is super freakin' excited about dinner and B) because Hannah is going to embarrass him and like... The end is certainly fucking neigh.

He tries to play it cool but when he looks at the clock and it's 10 minutes to seven, his hands are sweaty and his heart is racing like some fucking premature teenager on a first date.

Didn't she say she was telling on him? Like last week? Did they speak without him knowing? What the hell was he going to do?

His keys are in his hand and he's walking to the door with a grumble. "I'm going to pick Rachel up" he calls over his shoulder. His mom's smile goes from creepy to epically creepy in like, two seconds flat.

"Rachel's nice" she says softly, and turns back to the oven humming... Don't Rain on My Parade?

_Oh dear fucking God on a stick. _

_

* * *

_

When he rocks up, he thinks what a true gentleman would do. He would go to the door with her neighbours roses, ring the doorbell and wait for her father (or fathers, for that matter) to show up, and invite him in while he waits for her and speaks to the fathers about football, and how nice and pretty Rachel is. Then she'd come out of nowhere and he'd smile pleasantly and take her hand, lead her to the car with promises of her being home before 9.

He just honks the horn and waits for her to come out.

(Come on, he still needs his dignity, folks.)

After what seems like forever, she finally opens the door and waves at him, turning to speak to her dads. They scare him—don't get him wrong, he wasn't a homophobic or whatever—it was just the way they looked at him, like he was a fresh piece of meat they were willing to tenderise if he hurt Rachel.

Maybe he could have knocked.

But whatever.

She's wearing this creamy sweater over a black singlet, and jeans. He stares, mouth agape.

Seriously? He didn't know she was _packing_ that much under all that crazy.

"Hey, gorgeous" he greets when she opens the door to the cab of the truck and uses the roof for leverage to get herself in. Her hair smells nice. And her eyes are kind of awesome.

(He notices things like that, okay?)

"Let's get the fuck out of here" he says when he glances over, watches one of her dads twirling a baseball bat absentmindedly.

* * *

"Rachel!" his mom cries as soon as they're in the door, and fusses over everything.

"Are you cold, honey? Do you need a glass of water? Oh, you look stunning."

Puck clears his throat. Loudly.

"Pork is burnin', ma."

She shoots him a glare, but runs back to the kitchen all the same.

Rachel glances up at him, all doe eyed and just fucking tasty when Hannah comes flying down the hallway. "Rachel!" she cries, just like his mom. "Catch me!" and Rachel braces herself, and when his sister goes flying he nearly has a heart attack.

But Rachel catches her all the same.

"Jesus H, kid you almost gave me a heart attack!" he says with a sigh.

"Hey Puck" Hannah says with an eye roll. Then grins at Rachel and her front loose tooth makes him want to turn around and gag.

"You want to come see my new dolls?"

"No time for that, come on, dinners ready!" his mom says.

She even breaks out the fine china.

_Fucking... Rachel Berry._

_

* * *

_

So, it goes like this.

They sit, talk softly, eat and then Rachel bursts into tears.

Just like that. And under like, 20 seconds, his mom and sister are comforting her and glaring at him.

What. The. Fuck.

She just sits there, her shoulders heaving. "I saw the messages he sent to Santana, after she brutally made it clear in my line of sight and... I'm sorry I'm not a nice pretty girl like her, and I'm an ugly Jewish girl, Noah, I wish I could be someone your mom wants you to bring home." she sobs and she's just dropped the biggest shit on him _ever_.

And out of the corner of his eye (avoiding the death threats written across his family's features, of course) he watches her smirk for a second and then it's gone and she cries louder.

_What a crazy little clusterfuck. Oh, it was_ so _on._


	4. Where Puck Tries To Get Some Heat

**Authors Note:**

Coming up with ideas for revenge on both genders is not easy. At all. Spent a whole day typing and deleting. So if I could put all that effort into a fanfiction, you can put all your effort into writing me a review. Love.

**Disclaimer:**

Do NOT Want.

_

* * *

_

When he rocks up to school, he's partially deaf, no really, he is.

After Rachel had stopped crying (how did she do that?) his mom told him to take her home and apologize. So on the drive to her place, she just smiles and looks out the window and he has like at least fifty things he wants to say but she just has that batshit crazy smile like I-have-something-I-want-and-I-will-castrate-you-to-get-it.

He is so _not _turned on by it.

(Okay, so maybe he got half wood, so what?)

Complete mind fuck.

So when he gets home? World war 1, 2 and 3 are waiting for him.

It starts a death-threat-growl and turns into short clipped snarls that have him wishing he had a place to hide.

His mom says something like "How dare you hurt that poor girls feelings?" and "She's a nice Jewish girl!" and "At least she wears perfume that doesn't smell like a prostitute threw up on me!"

It's time to get some heat.

Heat = allies.

* * *

He's watching Rachel sing Hit Me With Your Best Shot and yeah, she totally is looking at him while doing so.

It doesn't help when her voice gives him goose bumps.

He turns back to Matt, who has been also watching and is very fucking hesitant to get into this mess.

"Look dude, I don't care. I'm not going to have those eyes glaring at me like that."

"Dude, you totally want in. You know it." Puck drawls as Rachel's eyes flash open after a long note, find his and narrows.

"Stop assuming shit." Matt grumbles.

"Really man? You sure you don't want Berry knowing about that wet dream you had about her last week?"

Matt instantly pales.

"Fine," he says after a moment. "But when shit goes down, I'm putting my ancestors skills to the fucking test."

"What skill?"

"Running like a mother fucker."

Mike is totally different. More sketchy and twice as fucking anxious.

"No way man. No way."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Dude, she's like Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan in one. She will cut you and like, you'll still be breathing when she's done." He says with a shaky laugh.

Puck sighs.

"You in or not?"

"Not."

"Come on man." He pauses. And then shrugs casually. "Guess I'll have to let slip that you got wood while looking at those pictures of Berry."

Mike jumps up.

"Shit—Dude! Okay, okay. I'm in. But if I die? Tell my mom it was all your idea."

"What makes you think_ I'm_ coming out alive, Duck Sauce?"

* * *

Santana once said "Mind fucking someone through song? Totally epic."

So he was pretty much fucking excited for Friday. Because he was going to take Berry down hardcore.

So fucking hardcore.

Suddenly, a sharp fingernail digs into his shoulder and he jumps like a _bitch_ when he turns to find Berry smiling up at him.

"What are you doing, Noah?"

_When in doubt, cover your spout._

He resists the urge to cover his privates, but plays dumb.

"Well, right now I'm standing here and staring at one sexy, crazy, daughter of a—

"No, I mean with Michael and Mathew." She says seriously, tapping her fingernails against the lockers door. He gulps.

"What you mean?"

"Well, I witnessed you speaking to them during glee the past few days, and now they won't even allow me a sparse glance! Not to mention Mathew is acting odd during our MySpace messages."

"I don't know what the fuck your talking about. Did you take some pills off of some strangers at all today?"

She stands tall—which isn't very intimidating (totally is)—and stares into his eyes, glaring.

"If I were you, Noah Puckerman? I would be very wise about what words I use in that sad-excuse of a vocabulary you so daringly love."

She smiles, stands back on her own feet and walks away.

"Good day."

Okay, so _now_ he was definitely looking forward to Glee.

* * *

Mr. Shue is oblivious to the small war going on in Glee. Either that or he's playing dumb. So when he asks if someone wants to sing he sticks his hand in the air like an impatient toddler.

"I got one."

"Alright" he says with a nod. "Let's hear it."

He signals Mike and Matt over, passes the music sheets over to the musicians and when he turns back, Mike and Matt are ignoring Rachel's glare.

"Traitors" she mouths.

When the music kicks in, however, her mouth snaps shut.

**[Puck – **_**Mike and Matt ]**_

**Black dress, with the tights underneath,**

**I got the breath of the last cigarette on my teeth.**

**And she's an actress **_**(Actress)**_

**But she ain't got no need**

**She's got money from her parents in a trust fund back east.**

The bass is totally fucking awesome, and as the guitarist does a cover for it, he nearly loses his shit. It is so bad ass.

**Tongues always pressed to your cheek**

**While my tongue is on the inside of some other girls teeth**

**Tell your boyfriend – **Deliberate glance at Finn who looks completely mystified – **if he says he's got beef?**

**That I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him.**

Mr. Shue flinches.

**She wants to touch me _(Whoa) _She wants to love me _(whoa)_**

**She'll never leave me **_**(whoa, whoa, oh, oh)**_

Here, Mr. Shue rushes to stop them, but they've changed the lyrics (What? Berry being a hoe? Bullshit)

_**Don't trust her,**_

**Never trust her, **

_**Won't trust her,**_

**Cause' the girl don't trust me.**

It ends on this major bass line and everyone applauds. Except Rachel. She just sits there, staring at the ground and he thinks maybe he's overdone it, but then she raises her head, smiles and claps once. Just once.

When Glee is over, they all begin to pack their things and leave. He waits until she's folding her music sheet neatly, stacking it into her pink folder before standing next to her.

"Hey, Berry."

She turns.

"Hello, Noah."

"So… You want to grab some grub or somethin'?"

"Sure. Can I borrow your phone first?"

He hesitates, not quite sure what to do, but then he sees her turn around and he sighs, bumping it against her back. She turns, takes it and suddenly smiles.

She pulls out her phone and he tries to peer at the screen to see what she's up to. But then she hands it back and he's confused.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to leave now, Noah, my fathers will be worried soon."

He totally forgets about the phone when she presses a kiss to his cheek.

_Totally fucking getting laid._


	5. Where All Is Nearly Forgiven

**Authors Note:**

Okay, well, this is it. Thank you for reading all of it so far, hope this made you happy.

I don't own any of the characters so, nyer.

Review, plox?

* * *

So, things have gone back to normal.

He slept over Rachel's on Saturday, and he was really freaked out because his first thought would be to get some, but then they end up asleep and when they wake up? She's still wearing her underwear and he's got his shirt on.

So things are normal.

Until Monday.

It starts as whispers, giggles and stuff like that. Then pats on the back and smirks from the guys.

He blinks.

_What the fuck is going on?_

Santana saunters up and says bluntly "Sorry, but we can't fuck anymore. I don't do drag-queens."

He blinks.

Then some time later a phone is shoved under his face and there's a picture of him wearing make-up, eyes closed, obviously dead to the fucking universe. And was that… Berry's teddy bear in the corner?

_That little snake._

He finds himself smirking and walks towards her locker. He lashes out lazily, knocking Jewfro to the floor for staring at Rachel.

She spots him, tries to hide a smile but he just shakes his head. He pulls her flush against him and kisses her face all over; her eyelids, cheeks, nose, forehead.

"I give up, okay?" he kisses her lips, once. "I'm raising the white flag."

"I need to hear those three words, Noah."

"I was wrong?"

She grins, and kisses him, totally brushing against his crotch. He moans.

"Baby, don't tease." When the bell rings, she's still rubbing up against him and he groans louder.

"Baby… Please don't tease me."

She bites his earlobe, pulls him towards the Janitors closet.

"I wasn't planning on it," she says with a seductive purr and a wink of her eye.

He can't follow her in there fast enough.

* * *

Rustling.

_"Oh my God, Berry. You're not wearing any…"_

"_I know… You can touch me now Noah."_

"_Oh, fuck. You are sooooo god damn wet."_

A giggle. More rustling of boxes and foil wrapped products.

"_What are you…"_

"_I have no gag-reflex."_

"_Holy son of a—_

Soft moans, creaking of some sort.

"_Shit, yeah. Just like that… Oh, Rachel, I was sooooo fucking wrong. So wrong. I was epically—Oh yes! Shit."_

A groan raises an octave. Someone humming Don't Rain On My Parade.

"_Babe, stop."_

A soft wet sound.

"_Why?"_

"_When you hum that, I think of my mom."_

Another wet sound. Humming of Don't Trust Me.

"_Ah… Yeah… that's fine."_

A knock on the door.

Silence.

Another knock.

"_Yeah?"_

"I need the mop."

"_Oh. Yeah, hold on Bill."_

"_Bill? You know the Janitors name?"_

"_He's caught me doing this before—what?"_

Silence.

"_Babe, are you growling?"_

"_Do NOT call me babe."_

Silence. A troubled sigh.

_"Here we go again…"_


End file.
